Fairytales
by HedgieX
Summary: Inspired by Aimeefran's beautiful YouTube video. "Tell me about Rachel Bailey." "Hey, you can keep your hands off her. She's mine." Julie smiled, but Gill was perfectly serious. Her mother had told her fairytales about princesses, when she was little, and she didn't think this was any different; when you loved someone, you kept on fighting, no matter how much it hurt. Gill/Rachel.
1. Chapter 1

**Inspired by Aimeefran's beautiful YouTube video. "Tell me about Rachel Bailey." "Hey, you can keep your hands off her. She's mine." Julie smiled, but Gill was perfectly serious. Her mother had told her fairytales about princesses, when she was little, and she didn't think this was any different; when you loved someone, you kept on fighting, no matter how much it hurt.**

**Fairytales**

**Chapter 1**

"Ma'am, I–" Rachel Bailey pushed open the SIO's office door and leant against the doorframe, her casual tone trailing away, to be replaced with one of concern, "Ma'am, are you okay? What's happened?"

Gill raised her head from her hands, "Nothing."

"But you…"

"Just a headache."

"Okay," Rachel seemed unconvinced. She took another step inside, the door swinging shut behind her.

Gill didn't start lecturing Rachel on some paperwork she hadn't completed to the best of her ability, or order her to fetch a coffee. She slipped her glasses from her nose and folded them, laying them on the computer keyboard in front of her.

The screensaver – a little fish getting eaten by a shark with blood dribbling through its teeth, replaying over and over again, because Kevin refused to show her how to change it – disappeared, replaced with her email screen. The newest one was from Julie.

_ Sorry if I'm being paranoid, but you haven't replied to my emails or calls for a couple of days now, and I'd really appreciate it if you'd tell me what's wrong. I rang yesterday, and Sammy said he'd get you to ring me back when you got in, but you didn't. If I've done something wrong, I can just apologise for whatever it is, because I'm really beginning to get quite lonely without anyone to talk to. Equally, if something's happened, I'm here for you._

"Ma'am, I need to talk to you about something."

Gill gave a brisk nod, her eyes still on the screen, "Go ahead."

_ I'm coming in on Wednesday to talk to DS Scott and DC Bailey about some paperwork I need doing about the Nadia Hicks joint case between our syndicates last year. It's going to be pretty awkward if there's something going on between us, particularly if it's something I don't know about. Anyway, just give me a ring, I'll probably be here until about seven, or come round tonight, if you'd like._

"Can I…" Rachel gestured to the seat opposite the desk.

"Yes. What can I do for you?"

"You know how I was… well, um, I got engaged to Sean last year, and I never really thought about it as something I needed to plan for, but… anyway, we've arranged the wedding now. It's next year, and I was..."

The thing that had stung Gill about the email, aside from what it was insinuating, and the obvious bemusement in her supposed best friend's attitude, was the end. _Thanks, Julie._ No pleasantries, and no joking. She supposed it was childish to be concerned by these things, but it was the truth; when someone didn't put a kiss on the end of their email, she automatically obsessed over why.

In private, she was an insecure woman, but of course nobody knew that, because when she was around other people she was cold and bitter. Perhaps that was why she was so lonely, because she hid away in a world where there was nobody to rely on.

"You want my permission to get married?"

"No. Well, yeah, I guess I'll need the day off work and that, but," Rachel paused, obviously feeling uncomfortable with the conversation, confused by Gill's frustrated tone, "Actually, Ma'am, I just wanted to give you this."

Gill took the envelope and sliced it open with her long scarlet nails, her face giving away nothing. She scanned the invitation, white like snow, dotted with silver flowers.

_Rachel Bailey and Sean McCartney._

"Right. Thank you."

"Mitch is giving me away, Kev's being the best man, and Sean's kid's being the pageboy. But I wanted to ask you something, too. You can say no, if you want, but I've already asked Janet, and I'd like you to be my other bridesmaid."

"No."

Rachel's eyes widened a little, "Okay."

"I appreciate you asking, but it just wouldn't feel right. Intruding on a private ceremony like that, when we haven't always… it's just not going to happen."

"But Ma'am, I want you to do it. I'm not just asking because I think I should. I genuinely… you've always been there for me; I wouldn't be here without you."

_ Please, Rachel. Just leave now. Don't make things worse than they have to be._

"I'd still be in uniform, or," she continued, her brown eyes overflowing with earnest, like chocolate buttons melting in the summer, "God, maybe I'd be in some squat in Chadderton, off my face. I don't really do the whole being grateful thing very often, but I really do want you to do it, Ma'am."

"I'm sorry, Rachel, but no. It's not up for consideration, or bargaining, okay? Don't make it your special mission, please, because after all there are plenty of other people you could ask, aren't there? Much more suitable people than me – younger, friendlier. They'll look better in the photographs too; I mean, come on, can you see me in a little pink frock with a bow around the waist?"

Rachel stared at her boss. Gill flushed, realising she was babbling, realising her overuse of rhetorical questions probably didn't make her sound particularly eloquent. Not that she gave a damn. Except she did, obviously.

_ Shit._

"But Ma'am…"

"Look at you. Just look at you. You're sitting there, practically shaking. You obviously don't want to be here, you're obviously finding this incredibly awkward, and believe it or not, I am too. You can try to kid yourself, but in the end, you're sitting there using the words _bridesmaid_ and _ma'am_ in the same sentence."

"I…" she shuffled on the chair, brushing a strand of hair from across her cheek, her eyes boring into her boss's with such intensity that Gill had to force herself not to look away, "Okay, then. Gill. Yeah, we might not have always got on, but I thought… I just… I thought you'd be happy for me."

"Rachel, we work together. We work together, and sometimes we drink together because we need to forget how shit the work has been, but that is all it is, okay? I don't even know who Sean is, for God's sake – I wouldn't know him if I fell over him. I don't know anything about you."

"You know all the important things."

Gill looked down at the desk, and counted slowly to ten. When she looked up again, Rachel was still watching her. "I'll put you in as on leave for that day, and the rest of MIT too, it seems. But I'm not going to come, okay? And this isn't open for discussion any more."

"But Gill…"

"I'd like you to leave now, DC Bailey, and get back to what you were doing."

"I… you…"

Gill shook her head, "Just get out."

Rachel kicked back her chair and stormed out without another word, every part of her body radiating indignation and anger.

Gill didn't mind that – she was perfectly accustomed to people being angry with her. It was the hurt in her colleague's eyes that upset her, made her feel like a bitch. Made her feel like it? She _was_ a bitch.

_ I… you..._ That was what Rachel had said, stumbling over her words. Unintentionally putting together the two words that Gill so desperately yearned for. The words she knew she couldn't have.

She threw her glasses across the office, and they hit the window frame with a crash. Rachel, slumped back at her desk, her fingers moving furiously as she texted, didn't even raise her head.

XxXxX


	2. Chapter 2

**Shortish chapter – sorry, it just ended up like that – but on the plus side I'm working on more already ;')**

"Here you go," Janet handed Haydn, Sean's little boy, a cup of orange juice and a Penguin biscuit. He scowled.

"What do you say?"

"Thanks."

Sean smiled affectionately, "Just cheesed off you can't join in with the beer drinking yet, aren't you, son?"

Janet forced herself to laugh along with Sean as Haydn continued to look as though he'd rather sit in a pig pen and drink from a trough. That was the trouble with some parents, she thought; they loved their kids so much, they couldn't see their flaws.

She liked to think that, although they could be cheeky sometimes, her daughters were growing up to be well-rounded individuals. _With taste and discernment_, as Rachel had said.

"Cheers," Kevin held up his can of alcohol, "To Sean and Rachel. Here's to hoping Rach doesn't turn into Bridezilla."

"Like that's going to happen, mate," Sean grinned.

Maybe that was why Haydn looked almost scared. Janet remembered Rachel telling her about the first time Sean's son had met his fiancée; something about spiders, which had most likely scarred the poor boy for life.

"Aw, you and Godzilla would make a right pair," Mitch said softly, giving an unusually cheeky smile.

Rachel's face clouded over immediately, "Seriously, don't even go there. God, what is it with that woman? _It wouldn't feel right_? How can it not feel right?"

"Rach, you're just being paranoid now."

"I'm not. I swear, she bloody hates me."

"Oi," Sean threw a cushion across the room at his soon-to-be wife, pointing to Haydn, whose ears had pricked up at the malice in Rachel's voice, and of course the naughty word. "We're really going to have to get a swear jar or something."

"I'll get you some soap and water as a wedding present, and you can wash her mouth out," Kevin suggested.

"What, like some kind of bizarre se..." Rachel trailed off as Sean moved to pick up the cushion on the other side of him, "Some kind of bizarre S. E. X. act?"

"I'm not stupid," Haydn mumbled, "I'm eight. I can spell sex."

Janet coughed, wondering how she could change the subject. The last thing they needed was Rachel falling out with the little boy any more than she already had, particularly when she was marrying his dad – that would make things very awkward.

When Rachel was like this, already worked up because of Gill, it wouldn't take much to make her snap, and then they'd all be in trouble.

Mitch broke the somewhat stiff silence, "I'm not sure you'd need to buy them water, Kev."

"No," Kevin agreed, his forehead wrinkled with the effort of considering the topic, "I know traffic cops don't get paid as much as us, being the bees' bol... the bees' _private parts_, but I guess they've got enough for the basic necessities."

Janet grinned. Typical Kevin.

"So," Rachel opened the diary on the table in front of her, "We have two hundred and ninety seven days until the wedding."

"What was I saying about Bridezilla?"

"Shut up, Kev. Right, tonight Sean and Kevin need to..."

Sean held up his hands, "And Haydn."

"Yep. Sean, Kevin and Haydn need to choose the reading for the service. Janet and I are having a look at the dresses and the suits. Then we'll all have a break and order some pizzas, and then we'll move on to deciding on some hymns."

"Sounds like a plan, babe," Sean grinned.

"Ew, Dad," Haydn discarded his Penguin wrapper and looked up at his father with unmistakable disdain, "Babe is a much badder word than bloody."

Kevin had picked up the takeaway menu from the table as Rachel began to distribute notebooks to her wedding planners. He ran a finger down the list, his tongue visible through his lips, his eyes wide with delight. "Rachel? You know how you love me?"

"Mm."

"Can we have Margherita? Pretty please?"

She rolled her eyes. Margherita was a wimpy pizza. The four seasons ones annoyed her more, though; how did vegetables represent seasons exactly, and why did everything in Britain have to be associated with the weather? "If you want."

"Rach, can we have some more beer?" Sean shook his empty can, smirking at Kevin, "Pretty please?"

She put down the bridal magazine she'd begun to flick through, suddenly overcome, suddenly sick of it all. "Help yourself; it's in the fridge. I'm going to the loo."

XxXxX

**Which story is the favourite, this one or _Scars_? I'm writing more of this one at the moment, but it seems that _Scars_ is preferred by the readers, so would you prefer me to focus on writing _Scars _rather than _Fairytales_? Opinions please? ;')**


	3. Chapter 3

**Um, I know most of you said you preferred _Scars_, but I've been away for an extended weekend in Belgium and France. I've been busy and I'm tired and this was the chapter I wrote before I went away and I haven't got round to writing any more of _Scars_ yet. And that was too much repetition of the word 'and'.**

** Sorry, anyway. You'll all just have to put up with some Rachel/Janet/Gill angst again. It's a hard life.**

Chapter 3:

"Rach, open the door?" Janet asked tentatively.

Rachel was sitting on the edge of the bath, mopping at the tracks of mascara on her cheeks with a wad of damp toilet roll. She was chewing the cuticle on the side of her thumb, tearing away layers of skin; a droplet of blood dripped down and hit her knee.

"Rach? What's wrong? Seriously, I feel really stupid talking to a door. Come on – it's just me here, the lads are discussing the pros and cons of having _He's got the whole world in His hands _as the opening hymn, so they'll be occupied for a while..."

Rachel leant across to unlock the door. Janet slipped inside the bathroom, and after she'd held Rachel in her arms for a long moment, humming softly in her motherly tone, she sat down on the side of the bath too, her arm around her best friend's shoulder.

"Oh, Rach. Is it the wedding, getting to you? You've still got three hundred days, remember? There's plenty of time to sort everything out – it'll be perfect."

"It's two hundred and ninety seven," she managed a small smile, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand like she'd seen Haydn do when he'd fallen over in the garden, "I know. It's not that. Well, it is that, but it's just... I don't know what I want any more."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm just not sure if I want this. The wedding."

Janet's gentle blue eyes widened, "Rachel, stop right there. You can't say that; I mean, if you don't love him, it's a massive decision to make, to dedicate your life to him. I know you argue sometimes, but I thought you loved him. And you know how much he loves you, don't you? What's made you think like this?"

"I do love him. I think. Well no, I do – I love him."

"You don't sound very convinced."

"Sometimes it's difficult for me to be sure who I love, after..." Rachel sighed, "After Mum, and Nick, and..."

"But that's all in the past now, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

They sat in companiable silence. Another tear ran down Rachel's cheek; Janet squeezed her shoulder supportively, but said nothing, because she wasn't sure that words covered it.

"It's... it's Gill."

"Oh," Janet said.

"She just... she was just so weird about it. Like, I know she's a bitch, and I know she hates me; I should've realised she'd be like that, really. I should never have asked her," she sniffed, tucking her feet up on the table, "But I genuinely wanted her to do it. I thought we were friends, I thought after everything we'd been through together... I guess I was wrong."

"No, she does like you. She talks about you sometimes – she says how glad she is that she snatched you up, says that she thinks you'll be a great detective some day in the future."

"Why did she treat me like that, then? Made a complete fool out of me – it was like I was just shit on the floor, and she was trying to wipe me off her boot before anyone else smelt it, or something."

"I'm sure she didn't mean it."

"How could she not have meant it?"

Janet grimaced. The kind of grimace Rachel had learnt to recognise as meaning _I know something you don't, which might explain what's happening, but I'm not sure whether to tell you._

"What? Tell me."

"It's... I mean, you know as well as I do what happened with Dave – she never really got over it, did she? She still hates him; it still upsets her, what he did to Sammy."

"And?"

"And it's a wedding. Weddings are supposed to be the happiest day of your life – imagine how hard it would be for her to see you and Sean so... so full of life, when she's not got any of that any more," Janet said softly.

"One in seven weddings end in divorce," Rachel snapped, chewing her bloodied finger again, "It's not like it's a massive thing, is it? He left, like, five years ago."

"Your mum left twenty years ago, Rach, and you're still pretty pissed off at her for that, aren't you?"

"That's different."

"It isn't. Sammy was in exactly the same position as you – he lost a parent, really, didn't he? I know your dad was an alcoholic, and I know things were hard for you, but imagine how it must have felt to him? That's only like it feels to Gill."

Rachel gave a half-hearted smile, "Maybe Gill's an alchy too."

Both women quietened as footsteps echoed in the corridor outside. Sean called out to them through the door, sounding almost worried, "Rach, are you okay, babe?"

Sean didn't really call her _babe_ or_ love_ often– as a couple, they weren't really very affectionate. Or perhaps she just didn't let them be affectionate; maybe she shied away from love, because she was still scarred by her childhood, and her parents' relationship falling apart.

She suddenly wanted to cry all over again. She did love him, she really did. He was warm, and funny, and friendly. He genuinely cared about her – she wasn't sure what else she could want. She'd just have preferred to have Gill's support, somehow.

She loved him, but he wouldn't understand this.

"Yeah, we're just sorting out my measurements for the dress," Rachel told him, coughing to hide the tearful hoarseness in her voice, "Give me a few minutes. You could order the pizza now if you want – let Kevin have his Margherita."

"Okay."

Janet laughed, "Measurements? Quick thinking."

"Not on MIT for nothing, you know."

"Unlike poor Kev, who's there to make the rest of us look good."

Rachel stood up to examine herself in the mirror, rubbing at a smudge of mascara on her cheek. Janet stood up too, running her fingers through her friend's hair, mothering her.

It made Janet shiver to think of her daughters without their parents. If she'd died last year, after the incident with Jeff Hastings... Yes, her and Ade were going through a rough patch; yes, they hadn't gone out anywhere together for a while, but God, she still loved him. Taisie and Elise still saw both of their parents – _that was the deal, a mum and a dad. _It made Janet sad to think that not all children had a stable family home, somewhere they felt safe.

"You okay now?"

"Yeah."

Janet smiled, but it wasn't a real smile. "I know you're angry at her, but you've got to try and understand. She still loves Dave, really. That kind of pain... I'm not sure it ever really heals."

XxXxX


	4. Chapter 4

**I know I never say this, because most of my writing is shit, but I'm actually quite proud of this chapter. I adore Gill's relationship with Sammy. All credit for inspiration: Amelia Bullmore and Jake Roche.**

Sammy?"

The boy, curled up on the sofa with his hands over his ears as the TV blasted out some of the crap people called 'pop' these days. Music had changed so much since Gill was a kid, and not for the better, either.

As she crossed the room, part of her brain was considering how inappropriate the music was, both because of the constant swearing and the upbeat nature to the song – neither suited her mood. The other part of her brain was screaming, over and over again, the same thing. _Shit._

"Sammy," she kicked off her heels, sank down onto the sofa beside him, touched his face. Cold. "Sammy, what's wrong? Please?"

"Mm..." he shuddered, "Mum."

She reached across to grab the remote, and muted the TV. Slowly, he lowered his hands, staring up at her with eyes that reminded her only of Dave's, eyes that were pleading with her.

"What's wrong?"

He rolled over, and she reached instinctively to grab his elbow, only to be thanked by her son splattering vomit all over her bare feet. The new carpet; she'd never get that smell out. _Shit._

She seized him roughly, "Are you pissed?"

"Mum. Gerroff."

Slurring his words. His eyes unsteady, not responding to her gaze. He was shivering, although the room was far too hot for her liking.

Somehow, she never thought she'd get to this point with her son. She knew he'd suffered a bit – okay, a lot – when Dave had walked out (perhaps because she'd made him suffer with her own suffering; how complicated was life?) but not this. She never thought her own son would throw up alcohol all over her.

"Okay," she said, "Okay."

She stood up and went to the kitchen. Took a piece of kitchen roll and wiped her feet, nausea rising in her own throat. Leant against the sink for a few seconds, images of her son in an open casket flashing through her head.

Then him as a little boy, grinning as his dad pushed him higher and higher on the swing, waving at her as she stood a few metres away screaming orders down the phone to a colleague. What had she done to the boy she was supposed to love unconditionally; what had she caused?

She ran the tap and washed her hands, then found a clean glass – amidst the last few nights' takeaway boxes, stinking almost as bad as the sick – and filled it with water.

She helped him sit up, and pushed it into his hands, "Drink."

"But Mum..."

"No buts, Sammy. Drink it." _This is my blood, which is given to you._ She felt like Jesus, for God's sake. That was quite funny actually – blaspheming in the same sentence as holy words. The flicker of irrational amusement was pushed aside by guilt and confusion. "All of it."

He did as he was told.

"Right. Now you tell me what the hell is going on."

"Nothing... nothing's going on."

"What the bloody hell are you doing sitting in my house, throwing up on me? I told you I was busy tonight, didn't I? I said to you – and feel free to correct me if I'm wrong – that you needed to sort something out with your father tonight, because I was busy."

"You," he ran a hand through his hair, "You're not busy."

"No. I know I'm not."

"Are you... are you okay?"

_Oh, shit, Sammy. How did we end up here?_ "No. No, I'm bloody not. Why the hell are you here, and why the hell are you pissed?"

"I'm sorry."

Suddenly he was sobbing in her arms, clinging on to her, his tears soaking through her top and hitting her flesh like bullets, sharper and deeper every time. And somewhere inside her sick, twisted, selfish mind, she wished it was Rachel instead of Sammy curled up against her, needing her.

"What, Sammy?"

"Mum..."

"Come on, kid. It's okay, I'm here now."

She'd rarely seen him, as a child. Well okay, she'd seen him, but not like any normal parent. She'd missed parents evenings and school concerts; she'd left him a microwave meal to heat up rather than making him tea after school, and bought him a magazine as a substitute to her being there asking about his day.

The NPIA had made her feel alive, and she'd forgotten just how much until those days with Rachel, a hotel room apart, bonded by their family problems, bonded by their job. She'd been so like Rachel, once. Maybe that was why; why all of this was happening.

But whilst she'd been feeling alive, how had her son felt? Dead? Did he still feel that way, abandoned and alone? Fought over, like he was a possession or something? Was this a cry for help?

"Sammy. Sweetie."

He looked surprised by the affection in her tone. Then he just sobbed harder into her chest. "Mum, he..."

"_He_? Who's_ he_?"

"Dad. He... he's thrown me out."

"He's done what?" she pushed him from her chest, standing up and pacing back and forth across the room, "Why? Has this got something to do with her, the whore?"

Sammy shrugged a shoulder and collapsed backwards onto the cushions, a snivelling wreck, like a toddler with a graze on his knee, just crying for his mummy to make everything okay.

"Right. Okay. I'm going to call him – I'm going to..."

"No, Mum; don't."

"Well, you need to explain everything to me, then."

"I..." he wiped his eyes with shaking fingers, "Don't be mad, Mum."

"Oh, you think this isn't mad?"

"He... he was slagging you off. He had an argument with her, and then she stormed out and he started drinking. Then he was getting all upset, crying, and he was going on about you."

"What, she – the whore – stormed out?" Gill snapped. With each repetition of _the whore_, more and more malice was injected into her tone, loading the name with poison. "And there was me thinking everything was so bloody rosy between them."

"Mum. Mum, he was saying you were a crap mum; he was going on about how you never even cared about me or him, how you were married to the job. He said you were glad I'd gone to live with him, because you could go back to just loving yourself, and not caring about anyone else."

She didn't speak.

"And I told him that wasn't true, and he was saying how she'd been a much better mum to me than you ever were, because she was actually around some of the time to help with my homework and make cakes for tea," he sniffed, "And he kept swearing, and crying. Then he threw a plate at the wall, and it smashed, and his hand was bleeding everywhere."

_Shit. The arsehole. _"It's okay, Sam. It's okay now."

"And then he said... he said he wanted me to stop seeing you. He wanted me to tell you what I actually thought of you, and then for me to leave and never come back again. He said you didn't deserve... you didn't deserve me, and he'd buy me a car and you wouldn't."

"A car? He thinks_ this_ is about a car?"

"And he was saying all this stuff about you. And... and I'm just sick of it, I'm sick of him. Always being drunk, and her... I said it wasn't you who didn't deserve me, it was him. And I said he was a shit dad, and I hated him, and I never wanted to see him again – then I walked out."

"Okay," Gill said, moving back across to him slowly, helping him up, "Come on. We'll get you upstairs and into some pyjamas, okay, and then I'll sort out all of this. All of the mess, and then I'll sort things out with your father. Everything will be okay, Sammy; I promise you."

"I..." his voice broke, "I love you, Mum. I'm sorry."

"Oh, Sammy. I love you too," she stroked his matted hair, kissed his sweaty cheek, "I love you so, so much."

_And I love someone else too._

XxXxX


	5. Chapter 5

**After the previous chapter, this one is a bit, shall we say, rough around the edges. I was reading my old Scott&Bailey fanfics earlier, and realised those ones were better that this as well, so... Anyway, I digress.**

**Special thanks to _GirlonaBridge _for the constantly lovely reviews, they make my day ;')**

**Be prepared for an incident with Kevin and a kettle, which leads to plenty of jealousy on the cards for Gill O_o**

Gill sat staring at her phone. _Rachel Bailey_. Her voice just a click away; all Gill had to do was hit 'call' with a long scarlet fingernail, and she'd hear her voice. Actually, maybe she wouldn't; maybe Rach would just hang up, and she wouldn't blame her either. Even a _what the fuck do you want? _would be enough for Gill – just to know Rachel was there, somewhere.

How stupid she sounded, how young and naïve.

_Julie Dodson._ The phone rang eight times before her best friend answered; she didn't speak, and so deep silence hung between them for a long time. Gill could almost hear Julie's thinking, could almost see the anger in her eyes, but also the concern.

"Hiya, slap," Gill said eventually.

"What the hell is going on, Gill?"

"I, um."

"What? You've ignored me for days, like I've done something wrong, only I know I haven't," her voice was bitter, "And now you ring up late at night and pretend nothing's wrong?"

"I'm not pretending nothing's wrong. Nothing's _right_."

"Are you pissed?"

"You know what? I wish I was."

"Are you crying?"

Gill leant over the sink a little further, trying to hold the phone steady against her ear, trying to get the smell of vomit out of her nose and throat and mind, "Have you got any onions?"

"The expression is 'have you lost your onions?', I believe. And I think that's a question I should be asking you."

"No, I- I mean it. Sammy's been sick everywhere, all over the new carpet in the lounge, all over me. My mum always used to put onions in the room, if I'd been sick. I don't know why – something about the smell? Maybe it wasn't even onions; I don't know. I just- shit."

"Sammy? Is he okay?"

"I don't know."

"Okay," Julie said quietly, briskly. The way she did when she was working, very efficient, very professional. "I'll come over. I'll bring some onions, if you'd like me to, because they always taste shit in Shepherd's pie anyway. Do you need anything else?"

Gill wiped her eyes. _Yes, but I can't have her. _"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to- things have been hard, at work. There's stuff... I'm sorry."

"I'll be over in a few minutes."

XxXxX

"Coffee, Ma'am?"

"Thank you, Kevin," Julie smiled as he leant across to fill her mug from the kettle he was holding. The table shifted position, and he lost his balance and splashed water over her hand.

"Are you okay?" Gill and Rachel spoke over one another.

Janet jumped up to get a cloth; there was nothing around to use, so she grabbed the whiteboard cleaner from the shelf and mopped up the spillage with that instead.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am. I didn't mean..." Kevin stammered, looking petrified. She'd smiled at him, for the first time in... well, ever... and he'd repaid her with a burn? "I'm so sorry."

"It's alright, Kev," Janet told him gently.

"Come across here," Rachel crossed the room and turned on the tap, gesturing to the running water, "You need to cool it down."

"That looks bad," Mitch muttered.

"Thank you for the running commentary," Gill snapped, chewing her nails as Janet helped Julie across the room and the three women fussed around the sink, splashing the water over the DCI's hand.

"Thank you," Julie was saying to them now.

Gill tore a strip of skin from her finger and tasted blood as she watched. Rachel was smiling, and she'd just put her arm around Julie to support her. Shit, she was practically hugging her, like they were best friends or something; they were both smiling now, and granted, Julie looked as though she was about to faint, but that didn't really matter, because Rachel Bailey had her arm around her waist.

"You alright, Boss?"

It took her a moment to realise that Lee was speaking to her, "Mm. Yes, sorry. Just tired – I was up all night with Sammy; he was being sick."

"Aw, is he okay now?"

She nodded. She'd forced her exhaustion away, but now she sank down at the head of the table and watched Rachel and Julie chattering as they hunted through the first aid kit, and felt as though she wanted to sleep forever.

If she turned into a fat old toad, would Rachel kiss her to break the spell? Shivers ran down her spine at the mere suggestion; she chastised herself mentally for being so naïve. It didn't make life any easier when you had to work with the people you fantasized about, so why didn't she discipline herself? Rachel wasn't interested. Rachel was marrying Sean, for Christ's sake.

"I'm fine, thank you, Gill," Julie sat back down at the table, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Sorry, I..."

"Here, keep your hand still," Rachel lectured, taking Julie's fingers in hers, undoing the cap on the cream and massaging it into the skin, "Seriously, you're like a little kid. Stop wriggling."

"Sorry, Boss," Julie smirked.

Gill had always seen Rachel as a rough, no-nonsense kind of girl. She'd throw criminals to the floor and jump on them without pause for consideration; she'd inspect bodies and not throw up the king-size bar of Galaxy chocolate she'd just eaten.

Now she was being so gentle and considerate it made Gill want to scream. She wasn't sure which was more attractive; the tomboy, sarcastic, brave Rachel, or the smiling, soft, sensitive Rachel. Both were pretty damn nice in Gill's book.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am," Kevin mumbled again.

"Oh, it's okay, Kevin. Heart of gold beneath the clumsiness, right?" she held out her mug again, and he filled it gratefully.

Gill didn't miss the smile pass between Rachel and Kevin as they both remembered their past conversations. _If I had a dog that ugly, I'd shave its arse and train it to walk backwards._

"Here, pass me the Love Hearts from over there, Jan?"

"Yeah yeah, Doctor," Janet grinned and gave handed the tube of sweets to her best friend, "Think we all need some sugar; it's bloody early."

Nobody had noticed the tray of biscuits Gill had laid out in the middle of the desk, then. Nobody ever noticed anything she did. It was all taken for granted: _oh, Gill's the boss, she does all of this stuff, we'll just let her work her arse off and do nothing to help._

Oh, just listen to her. Jealous bitch.

"Do you want one, Gill?" Rachel turned around to her boss, held out the roll of sweets slightly. Before Gill's heart could leap fully into her throat, the DC moved her hand back again. "Oh, sorry, I forgot; you don't eat sweets before midday, do you? Always telling me off for eating my Aero yogurts – you reckon we should all have cereal bars, right?"

Janet and Julie, both chomping on their Love Hearts, smirked.

Gill tried to laugh it off, but her eyes were pricking with tears, and she knew it. "I need to ring Sammy, see if he's okay."

Nobody even seemed to notice her leave. She pulled down the blinds around her office, then sank down at the desk and buried her head in her hands. She'd read the message on the sweet Rachel had offered her, and that was what hurt more than anything else, because she knew for certain now that it wasn't true.

_I love you_, on that little pink sweet. Oh, God.

XxXxX


	6. Chapter 6

**For _ChocolatePaddlepop_, just because without you I wouldn't be updating this.**

**I'm aware that it's possibly awfully disappointing, and also a bit of a filler chapter; sorry. I'd appreciate reviews x**

"Is it just me, or is Godzilla worse than usual?" Rachel asked, giving Janet the 'I love you' Love Heart instead.

"Aw, you love me, Rach? You're so cute."

"I'm being serious. She's so snappy at the moment. I mean, I'm still pissed off at her for the whole bridesmaid thing, but I was trying to be normal, and she's just treating me like I'm the one in the wrong."

Julie held out her mug for Kevin to refill. He poured the boiling water more carefully than he'd ever done anything in his life, and was treated to another smile.

"I think she's having a hard time," the other DCI said, eventually, "Don't be too hard on her."

"Have you just ignored everything I've said?"

"Oi, don't speak to her like that."

"It's alright," she told Kevin sharply, slightly worried by him defending her. What the hell had happened to them being arch enemies? She looked down at the skin on her hand, already blistering, and resisted the urge to pour the coffee over his head, the clumsy, well-meaning bastard. "I know she's being a bitch; she's the same with me. But you know what happened with her and Dave."

"Yeah, about a decade ago. Can't she get over it?" Rachel asked, adding slightly more quietly, as though trying to defend her point, "She sees dissected children before breakfast, for God's sake."

"She can probably hear all of this, you know. She's not going to be any nicer to you for slagging her off."

Rachel rolled her eyes at Janet, "Why's everyone defending her?"

"I'm not. I think you're both – I said_ both_ – being a bit unreasonable, to be honest. I know it was unfair of her to react the way she did when you were trying to be nice, but if she doesn't want to be the bridesmaid, then get over it. It's not the end of the world."

Julie held out her hand for another Love Heart. She smirked when she saw the message: _Take It Easy. _Fat chance.

"I'll go and see her," she said.

"Just don't blame me if you never come back out of there."

XxXxX

"Are you okay?"

"I wasn't aware that you cared."

Julie sat down, uninvited, in front of her friend. Gill's hair was ruffled, as though she'd just run a hand through it; her glasses were on the desk, folded in front of the keyboard, as they tended to be when she was at her most emotional, and yet trying to hide it. Why did Gill always find it necessary to pretend she was okay, even when she blatantly wasn't? Was 'friend' the wrong word to describe their relationship?

"Of course I care. How's Sammy?"

"Seems okay."

"Hangover from hell, I hope."

Gill shrugged, shifting her gaze for the first time from the screen, so that she looked directly into Julie's with her own sharp green eyes, "I left him my shoes to clean."

"What's wrong, Gill? What's going on?"  
To her surprise, Gill's eyes immediately filled with tears. She bent her head and tried to pretend she was interested in her pile of paperwork – which looked a good few inches taller than it had been last time Julie had sat here.

"Is it to do with Rachel? I'm sure you heard what she said: she thinks you're being unfair. And you are – you've been a miserable cow for the past few days. It's not like you. Well, you're normally a cow, but you're not normally miserable, or unfair."

Gill didn't even smile at the weak joke. She just shook her head. "You can tell Rachel I'm sorry, but I don't want to talk about it."

Julie had always been able to read upside down, which had come in handy for reading private notes on her teachers' desks when she'd been called up to be shouted at for chattering. She looked at the top sheet of paper in front of Gill now.

It seemed to be some sort of questionnaire, printed with an official Manchester MET logo. There were numbers down the side, and a paragraph promising anonymity; it had been filled in with swirly black writing.

"_Do you feel safe at work_?" she read.

"The Chief Con's idea. It's all the crap you get in any workplace: how valued you feel, and whether you think you get enough holidays. There's even a box for comments about the canteen."

"Never enough bacon sandwiches left when I get there."

Gill nodded, "I put that."

Julie didn't like the pained expression on Gill's face, which made her eyes look dull and her cheeks drawn. She leant across and took the pile of papers from her before she could be stopped.

"Ah, _do you feel your boss treats you fairly?_"

Whoever had filled this one in wasn't particularly complimentary. Rachel – so much for anonymity, hey? – had written something about how her boss's moods always seemed to dictate the way her team went about their jobs, and how she had clear favourites and treated the rest like shit.

"She's hot-headed," Julie said, "He won't read anything into it. He probably doesn't read them anyway, does he? Like you said, they happen in every workplace."

"I know, but–" she faltered, her voice cracking, like a child's might when they were frightened, "Is that really how she feels about me?"

"Hang on, a few days ago you told her it was inappropriate for you to be her bridesmaid when she was trying to include you in her big day, and now you're complaining because she's a bit miffed?"

"I said I didn't want to talk about it."

"Okay." Julie stood up, making sure she held her hand in front of her body so that Gill could clearly see the injury. _I hope you feel guilty for not asking if I'm okay. _"Well, I'm here for you, Gill, if you need anything; of course I am. But I'm not going to pretend to understand, and I hope you know I don't approve either."

Gill took the questionnaire back.

"I never thought I'd said it," Julie managed a half-smile, but it faded into a frown, "But this isn't Rachel's fault."

XxXxX


	7. Chapter 7

**Hope you all had a lovely Christmas and a happy New Year! We've noticed (being the obsessed fangirls that we are) that there have been a few new reviewers to our fanfics; if any of you fancy it, come and talk to us on Twitter! We're not *that* scary! Hope you enjoy this update anyway x**

Chapter 7 | Fairytales

_A fortnight before the wedding_

"Is it still okay for me to– you know, have the day off for my wedding?" Rachel asked, leaning on her elbows and looking towards her boss, who was perched on the front desk, "And everyone else."

"Of course," Gill said, not raising her eyes from the case file she was flicking through, "Why wouldn't it be?"

"I just thought I'd check."

Things had been frosty between Gill and Rachel for a while after Gill had rejected Rachel's offer to be a bridesmaid, but in the past few months things had thawed between them. Maybe they'd just realised they needed to grow up a little bit, that it was making the rest of their colleagues miserable when they bickered constantly.

Now, they talked more or less normally; Gill would tease Rachel, Rachel would slam Gill's coffee down on her desk. As long as neither of them mentioned the wedding, nobody would've really known there'd been a problem.

"I've drafted in a cover team. If there's something bad we might have to steal a couple of the boys away early, but other than that..."

The side of Rachel's mouth turned up in an attempt at a smile.

"Have you sorted out a honeymoon yet?"

"No," Rachel said, "Neither of us really have a lot of spare money at the moment. There's Haydn to think about."

Gill felt certain that the final sentence had been said with a certain type of malice, like Rachel was suggesting that her boss hadn't ever thought about Sammy's needs. Was she just being paranoid? She was always really paranoid when something involved Rachel.

Jesus, she really needed to grow up. DC Bailey was getting married in a few days, and she would become DC McCartney. Nothing Gill said or thought could change that.

"We want to save up so we can afford to go somewhere really special," Rachel continued, "We were thinking Paris; the capital of romance, all that."

"Sounds nice."

"We've looked at little cottages you can rent on the internet; there's a lovely one with rose bushes and shutters on the windows, and they give you complimentary croissants when you arrive."

Gill looked up for the first time since Rachel had spoken to her. Rachel's chocolate eyes pierced hers, without a trace of sarcasm. She suddenly felt like she needed to run to the toilets and throw up the contents of her stomach.

What, she was repulsed by Rachel's beauty and youth and kindness and warmth? No, she knew the truth; she was repulsed by the fact that she couldn't have it all for herself.

"Just tell me when you've got a date."

"Will do. Jan?"

"What now, Sherlock?" Janet called back across the office from where she was crouched in front of the fridge.

"Bring me a KitKat, will you? Pretty please?"

"Why do you put your KitKats in the fridge, Rach?" Kevin asked, glad of an excuse to take a break from the mountain of paperwork he had to do.

Godzilla was so moody sometimes; she always had it in for him. He'd moaned to Janet about it last week in the pub, told her she was the sergeant and she should do something about it. Having three letters in front of your name instead of two didn't give you the right to take out all of your miserable old woman problems on your officers.

Janet had just shaken her head and taken a long sip of red wine, "She's not an old woman, Kev. And if she's miserable, we should do something to help her, not talk about her behind her back."

"I took her a coffee the other day, and she shouted at me."

Rachel had laughed, "You do make the most horrendous coffee, Kev."

It felt weird to be admitting it, even to himself, but he actually felt a little bit sorry for Gill today. She'd put make up on, more than usual, perhaps in an attempt to look younger, but it only highlighted the crinkles around her eyes. She looked exhausted, the parts of her face not smothered in blusher and concealer a sort of creamy colour.

He didn't dare ask her if she was okay. Instead he nudged Janet when she came back to the desk having given Rachel her KitKat.

"What, Kev? Are you confused by all the different letters? This is an A, and this is a B, and this–"

"Shut up, Janet."

"Sorry, I'm just kidding," she said, crouching down beside him, concerned by the sharpness in his tone. Normally he took mocking better than any of them put together. "What's wrong?"

"Is Godzilla okay?"

"What, the miserable old woman?"

"I'm serious. She looks like she's about to pass out or something."

"It's just the time of year. Everyone feels a bit peaky in the winter," Janet said, but she snapped a little bit of her own KitKat off and gave it to him, like she was rewarding him for being nice.

It was funny that everyone assumed he didn't give a damn about them. He might hide it behind bullshit and bravado, but he genuinely cared.

"Y'alright, Kev?" Rachel asked, when she came back to her desk, and Gill had disappeared into her office again.

"Is Godzilla alright?"

"As alright as she ever is," she shrugged, "You've got a bit of chocolate round your mouth. Have you been eating my Aero yogurts again?"

"Nope."

He waited until she'd settled down at her desk. She was texting under the table, glancing every now and then towards Gill; she looked like a school girl trying to avoid being caught by the teacher. Bless her.

Kevin signed a couple more forms, chewed his pen lid for a while, then sidled across the room and knocked. She'd said to him once, on one of her rare nice days: _my office door is always open, _so why was it closed today then? He leant against it slightly.

Gill was sitting at her desk fiddling with something in the palm of one of her hands. She hid it quickly between her hands when she saw him, but a chain hung down between her fingers. What was it? A necklace?

"Are you okay, Ma'am?"

_Ma'am_. Since when had he called her Ma'am and meant it as a sign of respect, rather than something to get him out of trouble?

"Not really, Kevin."

Since when had she called him Kevin? And since when had she actually admitted she was having a shit day, rather than denying it and taking it out on the rest of them, like it was their fault she didn't want to talk about the complicated issues with her husband and son.

"Why? Should I get Janet?"

"No," she said softly, "I'll be fine."

"Do you– do you want a drink or something?"

"No. Thank you."

He went a little bit closer. His first thought, when he'd seen her sitting there, was that she was crying, but now he saw that she wasn't. She just looked sad and empty and, whatever Janet said, she looked old.

"Should I go?"

She shook her head, "Was there something you wanted to talk about?"

"No, I was just saying to Janet that you looked ill," he said, tapping his foot against the leg of her desk, like he was facing the headmistress for his crimes. It should be Rachel standing here, getting shouted at for texting her boyfriend in work hours. "But Rach said you were fine."

"Rachel–" her eyes flickered, "Rachel isn't always right."

"No. I know. I mean, she's normally wrong. She says I make crap coffee."

Gill didn't even smile.

Kevin didn't understand, he didn't pretend to understand, but he saw that she was upset about something Rachel-related, and he had to be honest and say he knew the feeling. He didn't want her to be upset, he really didn't. The miserable old bitch was a good person, somewhere deep down. Very deep down.

He sat down at the desk in front of her and offered her the stick of KitKat he'd stolen from Rachel's desk on his way past, like it was some sort of consolation prize for whatever Rachel had done.

She took it. A tear dribbled down her cheek and fell onto the chocolate, and she unclasped her hand and showed him the pendant of the necklace, a beautiful golden rose which seemed suddenly to tell Kevin everything.

XxXxX


End file.
